A poem of gratitude by Helena Noel:
Dedicated to the ones who saw the gold.
She bears her heart's cracked and jagged edges
Timidly displayed as broken wares,
The tears that crack her face with shimmered traces
Belie the silver of her trusted cares.
Taking her to me I shush her fears
and tell her of a wise and ancient art
where golden lacquer accents and repairs
A shattered pot, or plate, or broken heart.
Torn and ugly, bare and gaping wide,
Her trembling heart she asks I help her hold.
But though she seeks to fill the empty lines,
I saw no gaps; I always saw the gold.
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